Battle Scars
by cassandracrisscolfer
Summary: Blaine Anderson never took loneliness well. When he messes up his romance with his boyfriend and he is left alone with his broken heart, he copes in a way no one would ever expect. Warnings: self-harm and suicidal thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I wrote this for my friend Adriana cause she needs angst in her life sometimes :P

I don't own Glee or the characters, booo. :( And I'm sorry if I got their grades wrong at them time! I kind of took a gander.

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, mentions and actions of cutting, self-harm, and some violence.

Reviews are nice if you'd like to give some! Thanks! :) Also, I apologize for any typos. My keyboard tends to stick on the keys.

I've been here for quite some time now. I've been sitting in this waiting room with the tacky chairs and the bland white walls for over two hours. I listened intently through the wall as my parents talked to the people in the office, and it seems that the epiphany of all of this was truly sinking in.

I'm in Sick Minds.

Well, that's not what it's really called, but I do know that's what it's referred to by the patients who come here, so I might as well try to fit in. I kept my head bowed and my shoulders slumped because I didn't want the nurses or attendants to look me in the eye with their sympathy. I don't _need_ their pity.

My hoodie was thankfully covering my arms. I know lots of teenagers and kids here are probably admitted for the same reasons, but it doesn't make me feel less intimidated. My scars were fresh, and some were old, but nonetheless they brought on some form of regret when I looked at them. I guess it was worth it, though, because at least these scars had made me have feeling.

I hadn't always been like this. It really happened at the beginning of my senior year at McKinley High School. Everything was fine until my boyfriend left for New York City without me. I was so, so lonely. Every day I wanted to not even breathe, but because I had him to think about, I guess it's the reason I hadn't slit my throat yet. He didn't answer my calls sometimes and he always interrupted me when we talked or Skyped. I was proud of him for living his dreams, but I was sad he was living them without me to experience them with. I understood his excitement, so I let him be.

It wasn't until I became so lonely that I hooked up with someone else. I flew to New York then and told him what I had done because I thought he deserved the honesty. I felt bad about what I did, truly. He hadn't given me time to explain myself. I really wish I would have started crying in front of him while he came to see my Grease performance. To show him just how much I was in pain, but I didn't. Why I didn't, I can't recall, is still a mystery to me.

And that's when it started, and that's why I'm here now.

I pull my hood over my un-gelled curls because I had given up on the gel. If I had no one to look good for, what was the point anyway? Maybe it was best if I got all of my hair off. My boyfriend liked my curls, so it's worse to keep them their knowing his fingers would probably never thread through them again.

My parents step out of the office silently next to an odd looking woman who decided to stare at me critically. "He's a scrawny one," this woman whispered to my mother, and my mother nodded. Did I forget to mention I had stopped eating too?

The woman knelt down to me and forced me to look her in the eye. She wasn't a mean woman because it might seem like I'm over exaggerating a little. But, she was a seemingly stern woman. "Would you like to tell me your _conditions_?"

I sat up straighter and raised my brow. Talking was exhausting nowadays, and I really stopped doing that, too. It was a wonder I was still living. I can easily stop my own heart as easily as I can stop my own speech. Maybe once we leave this place and go home, I can try.

"Kurt," is all I muster brokenly. I'm surprised by my own voice. I hadn't heard it in so long, and from behind the women I saw my mother's eyes widened. My dad didn't change. The woman was the one to raise her brow now.

"Kurt? Who is Kurt?" she asks as she takes out a notepad. I feel more intimidated now. I wonder if she will write down what I'm going to say. This scares me. I don't want these people to know, I want _Kurt_ to know.

The woman repeats herself, "Who is Kurt?"

I don't answer her and I focus on the steady whirring noises of oxygen tanks and feeding tubes. Maybe I'll be hooked on one of those, soon enough. The woman gives up on reaching out to me, and I'm thankful. My head is buzzing and I want something sharp.

My parents hug me goodbye. It's quite weird of them to hug me. They never hug me. Frankly, the never talk to me. I guess my cry for help made them realize their neglect. I guess I shouldn't have hugged back because I know it will really just be like home. They'll be distant. It seems like a different kind of distant, so maybe that's why I did it.

I watch them walk out the door. The woman kindly hands me a form to fill out. It asks me many questions like why I'm in Sick Minds and what treatment would make me comfortable in recovery. Maybe acupuncture. I'm not harming myself but I'm still getting the needles. It also says to put an emergency number in case I have a relapse, whatever that means.

I put Kurt's number.

* * *

I put pictures up of Kurt in my bedroom. My bedroom is shared with another person. I don't know who this person is, but they were asleep when I walked in, so I silently unpacked my things. They have an oxygen tank and I'm very happy about that. The whirring noises are very soothing because they sound like Kurt's breathing. Kurt's breathing is more special though, and my throat tightens thinking about how it used to ghost over my lips when he kissed me.

I suddenly have the urge to do something, anything. I wish I could go to the dayroom or Study Hall, but since I'm in the Winchester wing, I can't go anywhere without an escort. I pull my sleeves of my hoodie down now because I want to look at my scars and remember how good it felt to put them there.

I make my scars little phrases sometimes. It used to scare people if they ever caught glimpse of them on accident. I try my hardest to keep them hidden at school and to hide them from the Glee Club kids.

I look to the scar that I embedded to say 'KURT' in big scabbed letters. I refrain from saying Kurt's name aloud, so I cut it into my arm. The others say things like 'COURAGE' or 'BLACKBIRD.' Those words are very dear to me, they are my memories. And I hate them.

Throughout the hall I can hear people in their rooms talking or sobbing or screaming. I'm very tired, though, and I feel bad because all the anguished noises lull me into sleep. I really wish I wouldn't wake up again.

* * *

The woman who I'd met on my first day here had told me her name. Rosemary. I like the name, and I wonder if Kurt likes it to. We had talked about our future when we were still together, and maybe when I get an invitation to his wedding I can tell him about the name Rosemary. He might appreciate it.

Rosemary showed me a chart that hung on the wall. "We used chalk paint to make a chalk board," she had explained to me. "We can't have pens and pencils around you guys right now." I understand what she's saying to me. _We can't have pens or pencils around you guys right now because chances are you'll use them to harm yourself. _ I don't blame them for eradicating the sight of pencils, either. I myself might have wanted to harm myself with it.

The chart shows the teenagers on my ward where they should be at this time for some certain treatments. It's sort of like school, I suppose. My name is written neatly and it says I should be going down to your office. I shove my hands in my pockets, and with Rosemary's escort, I am taken down to see you.

Your office entrance has a plush carpet with a spiral design in the middle of it. I try to follow the lines as they spiral into the crescent, but I give up when I lose the line and my head begins to spin. Rosemary puts a hand on my shoulder and I calm. I wish it was Kurt.

You come out to greet me and I shrink back and wrap my arms around myself. I guess you feel bad because you give me a sad smile and usher me into your office. I walk in slowly and you shut the door behind us and the noise makes me jump.

"Good evening," you say to me and I nod. You gesture to a big brown seat and I sink down tiredly. I study your nice pale blue canvas shoes and I wonder where you bought them because a girl at my school had them on one day.

"Where do you want to begin?" you ask me kindly. I wish I could answer you, but I don't want to talk. Talking takes too much energy, too much time. I'd rather be silent. You're considerate, though, and fold your hands patiently and wait to see if I'll speak. I wish you'd know that I won't.

"Rosemary said to me you know a Kurt," you say then. I look up at you and I can tell my glare isn't too kind. I nod then and I wish I hadn't done that because I know you'll ask about Kurt. Everyone does, really. And I don't want to tell you.

"Can you tell me why you're here?"

I see a file in your lap and I assume it's mine. I point to it and you flush and straighten your glasses. I don't understand why you're so embarrassed by this. "Your file says information about your schooling and parents. It doesn't necessarily say why you're here."

I nod and I lift up my sleeve to show you my scar that says 'KURT.' You seem unfazed by the amount and how the 'KURT' is freshly cut into my arm. And that makes me sob. You leave it up to me to calm myself down but I don't want to calm down. I don't.

I don't calm myself up until our time together is up. You hand me a box of Kleenex and I look back at you apologetically. If I was stronger, maybe I would've talked, but since I know I'm weak, I know I did the right thing.

* * *

I haven't really made many friends since I've been at Sick Minds. I can't stop thinking about Kurt. I noted in the cafeteria that all of our meals start with the letter P. Potatoes, peas, pancakes, pineapple, and pot roast. It was the little things now that make me think anymore.

I associate with you and Rosemary, but sadly I don't count that. There are lots of people in Sick Minds I could talk to, but some are not on the same ward as me. There were the crazy people who claimed to see imaginary entities and they were kept in strait jackets when they were escorted. Then there were the anorexic people, mainly girls, who were as thin as rails and pale as the snow. They didn't like eating, but I didn't like eating either. I wonder if I look pale and skinny and tired like they do. There are also the smokers and the drug addicts who strangely have their own smoking porch located near the dayroom. The people hooked to the oxygen tanks are suicidal and have tried to stop their heart so many times it's hard for them to breathe independently. Then there's the people like me, the half crazy, sick minded, basically anorexic, quiet people. I don't know what we're classified as.

As I look around the cafeteria, the other patients are talking amongst themselves and I can't help but feel even lonelier. I hate loneliness. Loneliness was the ticket that got me in here in the first place. Kurt left me lonely; my brother left me lonely, my parents showed neglect and ignorance and left me lonely, my old friends from my old school Dalton betrayed me and left me lonely. It was a real cycle I couldn't help. I guess people don't like me.

I push my tray of the P lettered food away from me and run my hand underneath the table. It's like the lunch tables at McKinley with various trinkets of metal running along the back for support. I find a satisfying sharp piece and try my hardest to break it off without drawing much attention with the rattling of the table.

The piece was loose to begin with, and from all the sports I was forced into by my dad, I had muscle in my arms to help me. I actually smiled when I broke the sharp piece of metal from the table. It was maybe real relief. I've been in Sick Minds for maybe a week now, and with Rosemary's hints, I know sharp objects were relinquished and banned from the people like me. I haven't cut since I got here, and I miss it. I think back to Kurt and how my guilt on what I did to him weighs in heavier. But then again, he wouldn't hear me out when I tried to explain. No matter whose fault this is, I know I'll be looking at his picture when I carve his middle name in my arm to side by his first.

I grabbed my tray and walked over to the trash and dumped out my food. I was surprised no one tried to stop me because I _do_ have an eating issue and I was hungry. I was upset no one tried to make me eat. I can't force myself, I'm too weak. I suppose because I wasn't sitting with the anorexics is the reason the others didn't notice.

I shove the sharp piece of metal into my hoodie and I go outside the cafeteria and ask Rosemary to escort me back to my room. I feel so young, almost a five year old child, when people like Rosemary have to escort me places. I'm taking time out of their life for me, and I'd rather feel unwanted.

Rosemary starts little conversation with me. "Visiting day is coming up soon." She smiles and I shrug. Rosemary clears her throat and continues. "Are your parents coming?" I shake my head no. I don't want them to come, anyway. "What about Kurt?"

I stop dead in my tracks and force my eyes to meet hers. "He's in New York," I state sharply. I feel bad for snapping at Rosemary, but I have anger issues, too. Rosemary turns a little to look at me.

"I'm sorry I brought him up, dear," she says sympathetically. This angers me even further. I don't _talk_ about him, I don't _mention_ him. She shouldn't feel sympathetic when I don't _need her pity_, and I certainly know she knows _nothing_ about him. _I'm sorry I brought him up, dear. _She_ can't_ be sorry because she knows nothing about him. _Nothing._

I clench and unclench my fists several times. Why is this making me mad? Rosemary doesn't deserve this, and when I see you, I realize _you_ don't deserve it either.

"Kurt wouldn't come anyway. He doesn't care." This is partially true. He probably wouldn't come after he said this wasn't home for him and he no longer trusts me. He might care though, since that's in his nature. I wish he would come, though.

Rosemary is quiet for a short time. I bet she does this so I can compose my wild thoughts. "I'm sure he'd come to see you, sweetie." I never told her about Kurt, but apparently she's good at guessing personality.

"Don't lie to me."

"I wouldn't," Rosemary says and crosses her arms. For now, I don't believe her because I don't trust anyone anymore. Rosemary asks me if I still want to head back to my room and I silently nod and we proceed. "Do you think anyone will visit you?"

I think for a moment and nod. "My older brother, Cooper, might if he can get a flight from California. The Glee Club kids too, I guess. I'm pretty sure they were informed of my…_time off._" Rosemary purses her lips and nods.

"I hope they can come and see you."

We are at my room now, and I nod. Rosemary walks away and I quickly go into my room so I can do something with the metal from the table. My roommate isn't there, and I panic. I want the oxygen tank noises when I go for my wrist. I let out a little anguished cry and throw the metal against the wall with a loud _clink_.

My jaw becomes set as I clench my fists and breathe heavier. I won't cut until I have the oxygen tank noises ringing in my ears. This confuses me, but I know I just need to hear the peaceful whirring. Suddenly scared of anyone finding my metal, I pick it up slowly and hide it under my pillow next to my Margaret Thatcher Dog.

I decide I want to tell you about him now.

* * *

Your office was the same as it was two days ago, but your pale blue canvas shoes are replaced with nice black heels, so I focus on your toenail polish this time. "I'm so glad you've called me into today," you say happily. _Yes_, I think,_ because then you will get your paycheck for working with crazy people like me. _

I nod and talk to you for the first time. "Me too."

"What would you like to begin with?" You take out a notepad and I see that you have a pen, and for some reason I am slightly jealous of your tiny object freedom. I sit up straighter and cross my arms. "Kurt."

"Ah!" you exclaim with a smile, "the infamous Kurt. Go on, dear." And so I continue.

"Kurt is my ex-boyfriend," I say quietly. I look up at you and you seem unfazed, so again I continue. "We met when he was a junior and I was a sophomore. It was at my old school, Dalton Academy. He stopped me in the hall and asked me what all the chaos was, and I told him about my old show choir, The Warblers. He was so beautiful, he was. He is." I stop to sigh and rub my eyes. "I grabbed his hand and told him I knew a short-cut when I just wanted an excuse to hold his hand. He saw us perform Teenage Dream.

We grew together when I told him to have Courage against his bullies. I ran from my bullies when I got beat up. I didn't want him to live in shame if he ran like I do now. We just did everything together. He sang Blackbird by The Beatles, which led to our first kiss." I roll my sleeve up to show you 'COURAGE' and 'BLACKBIRD' in my arm. You nod. I continue. "We knew each other's coffee orders. His was a Grande Nonfat Mocha. Anyway, we went to junior and senior prom together. I transferred to McKinley so I could see him every day. It was great until Sebastian." You raise your brow at Sebastian's mention and I shake my head no, because this was about Kurt. "I don't want to explain Sebastian." You understand and urge me to continue.

"Kurt started texting this other guy named Chandler and we had a small fight, but we made up, and I was thankful for that. The end of the year was brutal because I knew he'd be graduating and going to college. He didn't get into the college he wanted, though. It was NYADA. He promised he'd never say goodbye to me, he did. I was hoping he'd keep that promise but he went to New York anyway, and I supported him because I loved him. I became so lonely that I hooked up with someone else and I told him because I thought he deserved the truth. He was mad and hurt and upset. He told me he no longer trusted me. I don't blame him. So, we broke up. With all the neglect from my parents and brother, I then realized how truly alone I really was. Kurt kept me company but now he was gone. I had nobody. My friends still talk to me, but they never notice when I'm in emotional and physical pain. They don't listen. No one does." I look at you and you shake your head no. _No. I'll listen_, I hear your thoughts through your eyes.

"I went crazy afterwards. I stopped sleeping, eating, talking, singing, _feeling._ I cut off everything and everyone. I don't know why though, because then I felt more helpless and lonely. I started cutting to feel. I look at his picture when I do it…cut. I don't want to stop cutting, but I tried to commit suicide and my mom caught me, so she brought me here. I wish to try again and succeed. I realize, though, that Kurt would be so disappointed in me. I want him to be proud of me, but I can't because he _doesn't_ know and he _won't _know and I can't _stop_. He once told me he was proud to be with me." I start rocking back and forth and I no longer can hide back my tears, so I start sobbing.

"He was my first and I miss him so damn much."

You smile and I wonder why. You hand me a box of Kleenex and I take them and continue to sob. You don't stop me, you let me go. "I won't stop you," you say. "Only you can stop yourself, dear. It's okay to cry and it's okay to miss him. Thank you for sharing."

I get up and stare at the clock and realize our time together ended twenty minutes ago.

* * *

Visiting day is today. I'm not expecting anyone, but I hope people come and visit. Everyone is in the big dayroom and I see the other patients laugh and reminisce with their loved ones or friends. Rosemary walks briskly into the room with a smile plastered to her face, and I smile at her. I'm surprised because it was the first time I had smiled in a month while being here.

"Your friends and brother are here," she whispers. I perk up and my eyes widen. "Please bring them to me." Rosemary walks away and comes back in the room with a large group of kids and my brother. When they all see me they smile and walk over. I bet they're surprised to see me in normal jeans and a black hoodie with my hair un-gelled. It's very unlike my regular self.

Each person hugs me and says their collection of greetings. I smile. "I'm happy you came to see me." They nod and I know now that they are here for answers. I don't want to give them answers. Cooper won't ask any questions because I'm sure my parents have filled him in already.

They start talking.

"Are you okay?"

"Why would you do this to yourself?"

"Have you lost your magic, dolphin?"

"I'm so sorry you're like this."

"You can trust us."

"We miss you."

I don't care what they really ask or what they say. I close my eyes and rub my temples and I ask ever so softly, "Does Kurt know?"

My friends become silent and Mercedes steps forward. I'm surprised to see all the people who graduated are here to see me. Mercedes, Puck, Quinn, Finn, Santana, Mike. Everyone except Kurt and Rachel.

"We didn't tell him," Mercedes says. "We know what happened between you two and we just thought it would be best." I look at her and smile brokenly with fresh tears in my eyes. "T-T-thank y-you," I whisper.

The other patients start to leave the day room and soon we are left. Cooper began telling us his wild stories of his career in Hollywood and they make me laugh. Genuinely laugh. I haven't laughed in so long.

Something interrupts our peace, though.

I had taken the piece of metal and placed it in my front hoodie pocket in case I needed relief. I leaned forward as I laughed and it fell out of my pocket. It seems like a lifetime before it hit the floor with a soft thud. I'm in too much shock to pick it up.

"What the hell is that?" Puck almost yells. I look around at everyone's faces. They are concerned, they have sympathy. I don't want their sympathy.

"It's a piece of metal, what do you think?" I snap. I pick up the metal. No one stops me.

"Will you hand that over?" Cooper asks softly as he tries to pry the metal strip from my fingers. "No. I need it."

Everyone urges me with their concern.

"Please give it to him."

"You're much stronger than this."

"Please."

"It's for the best."

"You don't need this."

"Do it for Kurt."

I bolt out of my seat and roll up my sleeves to show everyone my arms. _Do it for Kurt_.

"DON'T TELL ME WHO TO DO THIS FOR!" I scream. "DO YOU THINK KURT WILL CARE?!" I grasp my arm and show them my 'KURT' scar. They all gasp and I laugh bitterly.

"DO THIS FOR KURT? I did this _because _of Kurt. All of it. Because I messed up, and I lost him." My voice wavers at the end. I choke on my own sobs as I take the piece of metal I refused to give to Cooper, and start engraving the name Elizabeth under the Kurt.

They all start screaming at me and I don't stop. Cooper and Puck try to grab my arms but I squirm and struggle and cry. "LET ME DO THIS! I'M DOING IT FOR KURT." They don't relinquish my arms, they won't. They won't listen to my pleas, because no one ever listens.

"GO GET A NURSE!" booms Finn's voice. I don't take focus off my cutting, but I see Tina and Quinn run out of the room from the corner of my eye. I'm tired of struggling, so to get them off me, I cut their arms instead of mine. I only cut them once. Only once.

They cry out and I instantly feel bad. I stop cutting at my wrist and slide it up to my neck. That's all it would take. One slice to end it all. Everyone is trying to go at me again, but they're afraid, and I understand completely. They should be afraid.

Tina and Quinn come rushing in with Rosemary and a few security guards. I'm not scared of them, I'm not. I'm scared for them, for what I might or can do to them. Rosemary orders the guards to handcuff me, and they do. They grab the metal from my hand and Rosemary puts it in her pocket. My arm is still bleeding, and in the bloody mess I see the engraved name. Elizabeth. Then I see the other name. Hummel.

Before I pass out completely, I hear screaming and I keep looking at my arm.

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel is causing me pain once more.

* * *

I try and open my eyes but the light is almost blinding. I can hear a whirring of an oxygen tank, and the whizzing of a feeding tube. My heart monitor is beeping too, but I wish it would go flat. I remember what happened. I went insane. I cut two of the people I know best. I cut myself. But it felt good doing it to me.

I open my eyes fully now and sit up. I look to a chart across from my bed and see that Rosemary is my nurse. I'm thankful for this. I'm in a different room, not the one I was assigned too when I first got here a month ago. My roommate is gone, but I have my own oxygen tank to help me sleep now.

My arms are wrapped up in white gauze and bandages and I don't regret it. I look to my bedside table and see that there is a picture of Kurt, and I wonder if you visited me while I was out cold and placed it there.

Rosemary knocks on my door softly and I look up. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asks. I nod and hold up my arms to show her the gauze, but she already knows they're there. "Better, thank you," I say almost sarcastically.

"You have a visitor." Rosemary smiles and I look at her in curiosity. I cut two of my last visitors, why would she let me have more? I nod, but I still wonder. She turns and beckons this mystery person into my room.

And then my heart stops.

"Kurt?"

"Hello, Blaine."

Rosemary smiles again before she exits the room. Kurt looks so beautiful, so much older. He started styling his hair differently; he's wearing his own designs.

"Why are you here?" I ask dumbly, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Kurt looks distraught, like he's been crying. He walks over to the side of my bed slowly and sinks into the chair with ease.

"They called me, Blaine. They said my number was the emergency number if you ever had a relapse. I was so scared and I tried to tell them to call someone else because I was in New York and I couldn't just_ fly_ to Lima. Why would you do this to yourself? _Why_?"

"Everyone left me, and I messed us up. I lost you and you wouldn't listen to me. I stopped eating, talking, singing, and feeling. I let everything go. I tried to kill myself because I didn't care. I didn't have you anymore so I had no reasons," I confessed.

Kurt covered his mouth with his hand and I could tell he was trying to hold back a sob. I continued. "I was actually expecting for you to have come with a new boyfriend or something. Maybe a fiancé." Kurt took his hand from his mouth and let the sob out. He grabbed my hand, and I didn't pull away.

"Can I see them?"

"My scars?"

"Yes."

I reluctantly pull away and carefully take the gauze off my arm. The scars have scabbed, but I now realize how deep I had cut myself. Kurt's eyes widen and he gently takes my arm and brings it closer to himself so he can see.

"I-is that m-my n-name?" Kurt whispers. I nod. "I'm sorry you did this to yourself." I shake my head and wrap the gauze around my arm again.

"Don't feel bad, I know I'm crazy."

"Well so am I."

I laugh a little bitterly and cross my arms. "How?'

"Because," Kurt starts leaning in. "I'm still _crazy_ about _you_."

He kisses me, and I kiss back, and I smile as we do so. He stops to take a breath and starts to breathe just like the calm whirring of the oxygen tank.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm not in as much pain as I thought.

~FIN~


	2. Chapter 2

Author Note: I decided I wanted to make a second chapter to this! :) Kurt will continue to be in it, but they are not officially back together yet.

I don't own Glee or the characters.

Warnings: Same as last chapter :)

P.S.—sorry for any typos!

I wanted to think it was a dream. Kurt had_ kissed_ me! After three months of not talking to him at all, he showed up and kissed me. I am excited because I'd like to tell you next time I see you. It had become silent, though, and I don't want to make things awkward, so I keep to myself.

Kurt stares at me, but he's crying. I took me back to the night I had messed us up. He was crying there, too, yet this crying looked different. It was like…worried crying. Sympathetic crying. I frowned. He shouldn't give me his pity to someone he can't love any longer. It took Kurt a few minutes to compose himself, and I sat there, watching.

"I'm sorry," Kurt finally spoke. My eyebrows furrow and like usual, I fail to speak. This must throw him off guard, considering I was always a ball of energy when we were together. Well, things happen.

"I'm sorry," he repeats and awkwardly clears his throat. "For kissing you."

Oh.

I nod in an acceptance to his apology. I wish he would know how much his apology _hurt_. And then he would expect me to forgive him for almost playing with my heart _again_? I understand I shouldn't have cheated and that it was wrong. _I get it_. But he still interrupted me when I tried to speak, and he ignored my phone calls. He played with my heart, and I messed us up. It's a lose/lose situation at its finest. As I play the causes and effects in my head, I hope you had understood when I explained to you that day in your office.

"Blaine, please talk to me."

"Why?"

"I feel like you hate—,"

"I don't hate you," I cut him off immediately.

Kurt is in shock, I am neutral. I don't hate him, in fact, I still love him. But I know what he's doing. If we were to get back together, it'd be because of Kurt's sympathy towards me, not his love. I want the love I once had, even though I know I won't get it. It's a lot like the idea of getting better.

I sit up a little straighter and rub my tired eyes. I was unconscious, so I don't know why I felt tired. Maybe because I was talking. Talking always makes me exhausted. Kurt watches me and I hear a small laugh from him.

I immediately panic. "What?" I ask frantically as I bite my lip. "Does my face look funny?" Kurt immediately takes my hands away from my eyes and shakes his head softly. "No," he whispers. "You're just…more beautiful than when we were together."

I tighten my jaw. "Stop, Kurt. Don't say things to me that will hurt me in the end. They are sweet compliments, but they end up as bitter remorse. So _don't_." I take my hands out of his and cross my arms and sigh.

"Why are you being like this?" Kurt asks. He sounds irritated. He gives me no time to answer. "Don't you get it? I can still think you're beautiful; I can want to kiss you. Just because we're broken up doesn't mean I don't _care_. Get over yourself. Try. You didn't get over yourself when we were together, and now you're stuck in this god damn loony-bin, so at least put some effort into getting better."

At this point, I was trying to listen to him speak, to hear him out. Instead, I kept looking at my fingernails. I focused on them and thought of other things. Replacing Kurt's voice is the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. It's a dull thump. It shouldn't be beating.

"I need you to leave. Now." I say sternly. "I never wanted you here in the first place." He runs his hands through his perfectly styled hair, I see. "Well," he says briskly, "That's your fault."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"It's also your fault we're broken up."

"I know."

Kurt is telling the truth. Kurt is never mean, he's honest. And right now, his voice is soft and calm and full of honesty. I decide to be honest, too.

"Kurt, you need to leave," I say to him again. He doesn't get up. This frustrates me. "I can hurt you, you know. I hurt my parents, I hurt Puck and Cooper. I can hurt _you_." He nods and maybe he understands.

"I know that. But I'm not leaving you again."

I secretly hope he keeps and breaks that promise, all in one.

Rosemary continues to help me. Kurt continued to stay. Now they are taking, and now I don't' like them even more. "How are you feeling, Blaine?" Rosemary asks me sweetly. I smile for some reason and gesture to Kurt curtly.

"I'd be a lot better if my ex would leave the room." Rosemary purses her lips and goes to replace the gauze on my arms. Kurt rolls his eyes and I find myself smiling at that. He looks at me and I immediately hide my smile. I can't let him see.

"Rosemary," Kurt speaks up with a glint in his eye. "Do you mind if I change his gauze?" I panic and Rosemary looks uncertain until Kurt says something about Carole, his stepmom who is a nurse. Then, Rosemary lets him and she leaves the room to run an errand on one of the other wings.

Kurt gently picks up the roll of gauze and kneels beside my bed to change them. I look at him calmly as he unwinds the now stained old ones. He stares at my scars for a long time. I know he is shocked to see "COURAGE" and "BLACKBIRD" written there. Then he looks at his name again and takes his index finger and lightly traces over it. I wince, but it doesn't hurt. Kurt wouldn't make me hurt again through the scars that already caused much pain for me.

His soft caress makes me start to cry. He kisses my wrist at the "COURAGE" scar. "Kurt, please don't do this." He stops but he holds my wrist in his soft hands, staring at me, staring at my scars. I feel caged, so very caged and my mind is racing and I don't like it. Maybe a small part of me wanted Kurt to be here, to see that what happened to us caused me to do what I've done, but the overbearing part of me wanted him to _leave_.

"You once told me to have courage, Blaine," Kurt speaks softly, not looking at me. I recall this. How could I really forget? It's one of those memories I wish I could overlook. When I don't speak he continues.

"So take the courage you told me to have, and use it for yourself."

"But I'm just the Cowardly Lion," I speak brokenly. "I have no courage." The fact I referenced _The Wizard Of Oz_ baffled me, but I guess it made sense. Kurt nods and starts to wrap new gauze around my wrist again.

"The top part of The Cowardly Lion is that he always had courage, he just couldn't find it and he didn't use it. He didn't believe in himself. You could be Dorothy, though. She's lost her place and she needs to find her home again. Find your home again like she did, and use the courage that you know you have."

I do not speak up again.

* * *

I was not allowed to move back to my older room on the other wing. I remained on the wing for the hospitalized patients or the ward for Sicker Minds, not just Sick Minds. I didn't mind, though. I didn't share my room with anyone else (not that my roommate acknowledged me anyway) but it was nice nonetheless.

Kurt continued to visit each day. I really wish he would stop showing up, but he's so damn stubborn. Rosemary talked to me still, and I appreciated that.

"You know, Blaine, Kurt told me he wants to talk to your therapist with you," Rosemary said as she set a bowl of soup in front of me. I sit up and pull the lap desk with the soup on it closer to me.

"No."

"You should at least try, honey," Rosemary sits down in the seat beside my bed and takes my hands in her larger ones. I consider her words for a second and then I sigh. "I don't want him to explain things…or rather; I don't want him to know."

Rosemary nods and smiles. "The only way he's going to know how to help you is if he _knows_. Blaine, when he's here, I can see certain things in his eyes. He still cares about you. Why wouldn't he? I think you're hurting yourself more by not having him know. Maybe he wants to try."

"His eyes have always been expressive," my voice whispers brokenly. I tighten my jaw and I feel my throat closing and becoming thick. Tears are threatening to escape my eyes, but I hold them back. "The first time we ever…_did anything_…" I stop to blush and smile sheepishly with a small chuckle. "The first time we ever did anything intimate, he said he was proud to be with me. And I was so glad because no one is ever truly proud of me and I—I saw love in his eyes. When I told him I had cheated…" I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. "His eyes were clouding over. They were guarding from me. He—he looked so sad…and it was my entire fault. I broke his heart, and I saw his feelings shatter in his eyes."

Rosemary is speechless as I start to cry. She can't really say anything to make me feel better. It's impossible. In that moment, I realize I do want Kurt to hear. If not for him, for me, and if not for me, for my recovery. Telling you would be the best option.

"Go get Kurt…I'm ready to talk," I finally say.

* * *

Kurt is sitting at the end of my bed at my feet, and you are in a very nice skirt with your legs crossed. I make it my goal to focus on the ankle bracelet you have on because it has distracting, attention-catching charms. You sit in the chair Rosemary had occupied earlier, only it is placed a different angle so you can see me better.

"I'm so happy you've decided to talk to me today," you say happily. You say that at the beginning of all our sessions, so I wonder if you really mean it. I hope you do, because I am truthfully happy to talk to you.

"How have you been feeling?" I shrug in response to your question. I don't really know how I've been feeling. Decent, I suppose. Yeah. Kurt's brow furrows slightly and I try not to be evident that I was looking at him. You watch our little interaction with pure interest on your face. I wonder if you are judging us in your head, or if you are trying to decipher our body language we seem to have towards each other at random times. The silence in the room is deafening, and I don't like it. But as always, I will not be the one to break it.

You look at Kurt. "You must be Kurt Hummel," you say kindly. Kurt smiles and I want to smile along with him, but I feel that would be inappropriate given our situation. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Kurt shakes your hand when you offer it to him. I stare at your ankle bracelet. The charms sway as you move.

"It was of my understanding that_ you_ were the one who wanted the three of us to talk together. I'm glad you said something. I feel Blaine should express his feelings to someone he loves, not just someone who will try to guide him in the directions that might help him recover." Kurt nods and goes to grab for my hand, but I pull away and he doesn't try to grab it a second time.

"Well, I hope so," Kurt says almost sadly. "I really did miss him when I went to New York, and I just got really excited over everything that was happening to me. I was finally out of dingy old Lima, Ohio. Work kept me busy, though, and I did feel bad when I had to cut our conversations so abruptly, but I just…" Kurt sits and thinks for a moment "I really, _really _still love him and I hate seeing him like this knowing he did it to himself. I knew he'd always had trouble with his family, and he was so strong about it, but seeing him like this…" He points to my wrists "Seeing him physically take a sharp object and purposely harm himself makes me almost sick. I have _touched_ that skin, I have_ kissed_ that skin, and I have done so many things to that skin, and seeing it marred up and bloody and scabbed is one of the last sights I ever wanted to see. I sound selfish, I do, but I can't help it when the man I love is sitting here silent and uninterested in everything, including _me_. I feel like he hates me, and I_ hate_ that feeling. I always have."

Kurt is crying, but so am I. You are writing things down in that little notebook with the pen that I still can't have. Without thinking, I grab Kurt's hand. I don't know why I did it, and I curse myself inwardly for doing it.

"How do you feel about this Blaine?" you ask me then. I don't want to talk in fear my words will be wrong. I cast my eyes down to your ankle bracelet, then to Kurt's hand clasped in mine, and then to a little discolored spot on the wall. I find my voice.

"I don't feel like its Kurt's business. It's my body, it's my skin. It's just body decoration to commemorate on the things I hate," I say quietly. "I don't care if I'm crazy, I really don't. All I care about is getting out of here so I can try to do something else. Something…more successful. He loves me still? I don't care."

On the inside I am screaming. I _do_ care, but it still gives me no determination or reason on why I shouldn't be harming myself. You are writing again, Kurt is crying. I slip my hand from his. You excuse yourself for a moment, but you leave your notepad and your pen resting on the chair. I do not know why you left for the moment, but I'm quite happy you did.

Kurt talks but I don't hear him. The pen on the chair is begging to be picked up. I haven't done something to myself, but it's not me who I wish to harm.

"Kurt," I say gently. I realize my acting skills will work for the plan I make up as I go along. Kurt looks up from his phone and his face is wet and red from crying, and I almost feel bad, but I don't know why. I have no_ reason_ to feel bad. "Yes?"

I let my eyes wander to the pen and I smile with faux sweetness. "Could you please hand me that pen?" I point weakly to the pen. He raises his eyebrow skeptically at me but hesitantly reaches for it anyway. Inside, I'm very, very excited. I haven't felt this excited in such a long time and the familiar feeling is warm.

He hands me the pen, you are still gone, and I listen to my heart beat. A more livid thump. I feel so much more energized and I feel empowered because of one stupid _pen._ My mouth breaks out into a fully fledged toothy smile and I start laughing quietly. Kurt is staring at me strangely and I smile at him.

"Kurt?"

"Blaine, you okay…?"

"I'm perfectly all right. Give me your hand please."

"I don't trust you, Blaine. You're freaking me out."

I know what I must do. It's always worked before. I put on my best seductive smile and I sit up and learn forward until I'm flush against him and my mouth is right by his ear. His breath hitches and he puts his hand on my chest trying to push me away. It doesn't intimidate me.

"Please give me your hand, Kurt. I'm only going to write a little message there. I promise." I make sure my breath is ghosting over his ear because, well, just because I'm hospitalized doesn't mean I can't be remotely seductive.

I grab his hand and move to look into his eyes and then, when he's drunk from the sight of my eyes, I kiss him. It's not heated, because that would be a good thing. When we break apart he leans his forehead on mine and I speak.

"Please?"

Kurt nods mutely, still high from our kiss as I gently take his hand and trace his palm with my index finger. The gesture is a nice one. I take the pen and start to draw on his hand. I draw a heart, and a little bird, and some stars. Kurt is staring at me warmly, unaware of my plan.

I push the pen in harder as I trail up to his wrist, and he's unfazed for the moment. Until I press harder. He gasps in pain, but if it were me, I'd probably feel nothing.

"Blaine, what are you—ow, Blaine!—y-you're hurting me! Stop!"

I'm surprised you haven't returned yet. You might be talking to Rosemary. I hope you are. I press harder until the tip digs into his skin. I told him to leave; I told him I could harm him. I warned him, I loved him, and again I hurt him. Only, this time, it was willingly.

"BLAINE STOP!" Kurt cries as he tries to pull his wrist from me. I grab onto his arm though, preventing him and then I push him back onto the bed and get on top of him, still hurting him. He squirms underneath me and hits me with his free hand. It doesn't hurt me. I've been in way too much pain for a tiny punch to hurt me.

I hear you walk in, but I don't stop. I keep hurting people, and I don't know why. I hurt Cooper, Puck, my family, and now Kurt twice. You call for Rosemary and she comes in a hurry, and when she sees me she springs into action to get me off.

"ENOUGH!" She shouts at me and pulls me off Kurt. Kurt is crying hysterically and grabbing at his wrist in pain. I caused that pain, and suddenly I feel terrible. I love him, but I don't want to.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper brokenly. I drop the pen and fall out of Rosemary's arms and to the floor.

Suddenly, I realize, I'm not the Cowardly Lion and I'm not Dorothy. I'm the Tin Man. I have no heart and I wield and ax that can harm people. Only in my version, I use it.

* * *

Author Note: I have a cause for all of Blaine's violence, so don't hate him lol Also, I might bring a few other people from New Directions in because I like their friendship with Blaine. I feel bad for what I did to Kurt :( But he'll be okay, really. Let me know what you think!


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